Home
by izzysheppard
Summary: Alison Jacobs worked for a newspaper. She had heard rumblings of unrest in Europe for years. She had heard that Austro-Hungary and Germany were at war with several European countries. She didn't expect the President to declare war as well and send soldiers to Europe.


Alison Jacobs worked for a newspaper. She had heard rumblings of unrest in Europe for years. She had heard that Austro-Hungary and Germany were at war with several European countries. She didn't expect the President to declare war as well and send soldiers to Europe.

In a way, she was thankful Jack had died all those years ago, because she knew he would have been first in line to sign up to fight. David didn't enlist. Her husband was no coward, but they were nearly in their thirties. He was a lawyer, not a soldier. They had their two children to think about.

Their son had been born about half a year after they both lost their brothers to pneumonia. Naturally, Jack became their son's namesakes. Jonathan Jacobs. 16 years old when America joined the fight. Furious when his father told him he couldn't enlist.

They didn't expect their son to be drafted before David was. Alison certainly didn't expect to send her husband and her son off to war. Their daughter, ten years old when the fighting began, cried when her father left them on the docks.

Crutchie visited often during the day to watch little Katherine while Alison went to work. She spent more time than necessary in Denton's office while at work. He was still a war correspondent, after all. He'd be the first to hear if anything went wrong.

David sent her letters every week, Jack less so. She read and re-read those letters for any sign that they were in trouble. She thought she might die when she noticed that it had been two months since the last letter from her son. David's letters were becoming shorter with every passing week, but he was sure to send one to her and one to his daughter every single week without fail. He knew they would both notice if they had stopped.

She was at the apartment with Crutchie and Spot, who somehow avoided being drafted - some kind of heart condition, he said (Alison snickered and reminded him that he'd have to have heart to have trouble with it) - when the man from the war office appeared.

Alison knew exactly what that meant. So did Spot, who offered to take Katherine to Brooklyn immediately. She barely nodded when he hurried her little girl out the door with the promise of anything if she needed it. Crutchie stayed and held her hand as the young man, hat in hand, told her that her son had been shot on May 28, 1918 (good god, five months ago) in battle, and had since passed away from his injuries. The poor young man helped Crutchie put Alison in a chair, mumbled his apologies, and left just as suddenly as he had come.

In the following days, a confused Katherine spent several nights with her Uncle Crutchie.

Alison didn't know what to do. David was still overseas. Her husband was still at war. She couldn't tell him that his only son had been killed in battle while he still had to fight. But if she didn't tell him, Alison didn't think he'd ever forgive her when he came home.

She didn't know David already knew. She didn't know that he had been in that battle, had tripped over a fallen man and fell to his knees as he realized it was his son. She didn't know that his hands shook as he thought about it now, that he didn't know if he should write to his wife and tell her what he saw, that he had held his son's hand as he died.

David's letters stopped coming every week. They were short, and always excused itself by saying things were busy and he hadn't much time to write.

 _"...I won't lie to you, Alison, as you know I never would about these things, but the conditions are, to put it bluntly, terrible. Spirits seem to have changed with the weather - colder, less hopeful. I cannot even begin to describe them to you, nor do I want to haunt you with graphic details._

 _I long to see you soon, as well as our daughter. Forgive the briefness of this letter, Alison, as the rain has made everything wet and the paper nearly impossible to write on._

 _Always remember how much I love you, Alison. We shall not be apart for much longer, I dearly hope. Goodbye for now. Give Katherine a kiss for me._

 _Yours,_

 _David"_

Alison read the most recent letter from David with a sense of dread, knowing that her reply would have to tell him of their little family's own personal tragedy. The letter sent, she sat her daughter down and explained that her big brother, her hero, had been hurt in battle and would not be coming home. Katherine, now twelve, did not cry in front of her mother, as she did not want to make her mother cry, either.

The next time a man from the war office appeared in the door, it was April 1919, and twelve year old Katherine Jacobs slammed the door in the man's face in true Kelly fashion. Alison, with a deep breath and a braced heart, opened the door again to learn that her husband had not been injured (or worse). Quite the opposite, in fact, as he had been promoted to the rank of Captain and had been granted a two-week furlough. He was expected to arrive in the next few days.

Katherine nearly took the wind out of her father the moment she spotted him on the docks. She barrelled into his arms as fast as her long legs could carry her. (She was taller than he remembered, and she looked more like her mother every day.)

Alison did in fact knock the wind out him, but not from the force of a collision. He has not seen his wife's face in nearly two and a half years. He had not been able to hold her when they lost their son. She approached slowly, and then ran to him with as much force as their daughter that now was holding his hand. (Had it really only been two years? He's missed so much of watching his little girl grow.) Out of instinct, his arms wrapped around her as tightly as he could. He knew that Alison was not doing the same, that she didn't want to hurt him, and kissed her after a moment. (God, had it really been two years since he had kissed his wife last?)

(What had he been fighting for?)

That night's dinner was a quiet but joyful affair, just the three of them. All three did well avoiding any discussion of the war or of battle. Katherine cheerfully caught her father up on all she had learned in school (his little girl was smarter than he was, he swore it), and Alison talked of work. No one mentioned Jack.

Alison Jacobs worked for a newspaper. She had spent enough time talking to their war correspondent to know that many men were having hard time adjusting when they finally came home. She didn't miss the slight shake in David's hands, nor did he think she did. She didn't overlook how distant he seemed, even while completely engaged with his daughter. She didn't miss the mutterings in his sleep that night as she shook him awake as his nightmare worsened. Katherine didn't need to know, didn't need to be woken.

Two weeks came and went faster than any of them would have liked. The morning David was scheduled to leave, he walked his little girl to school before making his way to the docks. At the schoolhouse, Katherine hugged her father as tight as he could, and refused to let her go unless he walked her to the door of her classroom. (Well, he certainly couldn't refuse that demand of his little girl.) The teacher saw his uniform and his daughter clinging tightly to his hand and nodded in a respectful understanding as Katherine hugged him tight again and kissed him goodbye.

Alison refused to let him go to the docks alone. Refused to let go of his hand the entire walk there. Held him close that morning and tried to refuse to let him leave their bedroom that morning. (She was almost proud to admit that she had nearly succeeded in that attempt.) David kissed Alison like it was the last time they'd ever kiss (because for all they know, it might be), and promised to write before getting on the ship without looking back.

(If he looked back, he was afraid he wouldn't have to will to turn back around and get on the damned ship.)

Letters were even scarcer than before David had come home. Alison knew that there were talks of the war ending soon. David seemed hopeful. Denton confidently predicted the fighting would end before the end of the year.

Technically, he was right.

Alison was the one who was given the news on November 11, with the assignment to cover the story. Her first front page (above the fold) headline announced an armistace - a ceasefire.

No letter came from David until nearly December. None of the men were certain when they would all be allowed home. It happened slowly: Race surprised Alison on her doorstep, Romeo bumped into her at Jacobi's. Morris Delancey floored her when he arrived at her office with a sincere apology for how he had treated her their entire lives before the war (though she assured him that no apology was necessary).

No word from David. Katherine, now thirteen, asked Alison when her father was coming home. She told her she didn't know, but that she could send her father a letter if she'd like.

(David was impressed at how authoritative his little girl's letter - though he supposed she wasn't so little anymore - was, demanding him home for Christmas.)

He didn't make it home for Christmas. Disheartened, the two Jacobs women enjoyed a quiet Christmas alone. Planned for the noisiest New Years celebration they could muster - they invited all the boys, they planned for quite the party.

David had been told in mid-December that he was expected to be able to leave for home the day after Christmas. He wrote to his wife and his daughter, told them he would not be home for Christmas. Did not tell them he would be arriving on New Years. He planned to surprise his girls when he returned.

It was quite the party. The boys drank plenty, let Katherine win at poker (or so they claimed), reminisced about when they were kids and when the big enemy was Joseph Pulitzer, who had died eight years ago. (Alison remembered being surprisingly disheartened by that news, the way you expect to feel after you learn that an old childhood friend had passed away.)

None of them heard the door open. Race saw David, but a finger to his lips as he approached Alison from behind, wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and kissed her forehead. To which she responded with a yelp of surprise and a scream of joy as she realized who it was behind her. Katherine jumped onto her father's back (though really she was too big to be doing that, David hated himself for having to out her back down), and squealed in delight.

The boys all shook hands and welcomed each other home. The smile never left Alison's face, and her hand never left David's.

It was quite the party. The war was finally over. David was home.


End file.
